


my better self

by spookyfoot



Series: yuuri week 2017 [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Era, Character Study, Day 2, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Theme: Friends and Family, Vignette, Yuri!!! In Russia, Yuuri Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/pseuds/spookyfoot
Summary: Mila's the first friend Yuuri's made in Russia. Technically, Yuuri became friends with Yurio in Hasetsu, but he'd never say that to Yurio's face.On his first day training in Russia, Mila stole Yuuri from the rink and showed him pictures of Victor and Georgi wearing Spice Girls t-shirts Victor had picked up at a consignment shop during Skate America in 2006, and a video of them skating a synchronized routine to "Stacy's Mom.""Don't let anyone here intimidate you. I guarantee none of them are scarier than Yura." They watched Victor skate circles around Yuri on the ice, Mila's camera primed for blackmail material—just in case._________Yuuri and some of the women in his life, through the years.





	my better self

**Author's Note:**

> UNBETA'D, WHOOPS. i will probably try to edit this tomorrow when i'm more awake. 
> 
> title from "My Better Self" by Tennis.

Yuuri jumps in and out of the pools of light cast by the twinned street lamps above his head as he runs towards Minako's studio. He'd know the way blindfolded with only the omnipresent roar of the ocean and the slap of his feet to guide him.  

He fishes the key out of his pocket, unlocks the door, and inhales the scent of the floor wax Minako's used since he first started lessons. If this were a movie, he'd have his plane ticket—Fukuoka to Seoul, Seoul to Atlanta, Atlanta to Detroit—in the pocket of his thin blue windbreaker. But he doesn't. He peels off his outer layers, flings them to the floor, and hits the lights. 

The grain of the wood bar beneath his fingers is his body's cue to start his warm ups. He moves through the space by memory alone. 

Yuuri's not sure how long he dances—a series of old pieces that morph into a bastardized version of Victor Nikiforov's latest free skate—before his trance is broken by the sound of applause. 

Minako cocks her hip and leans against the wall, posture unusually lax. "You've got an early flight tomorrow."

As if this is news to him. "I'm aware." 

"Clearly. Everyone prepares for an intercontinental flight by dancing in a studio three hours before they're supposed to leave for the airport." 

Yuuri pushes his hair back from his forehead. "Why are you like this?" 

"Because I don't want you to miss any of your connecting flights when you're too tired to navigate the terminal." Minako looks him up and down, sighs, then walks over to the light switch. "Come on, we're going to the bar. I'm cutting you off." 

"I feel like we've got things backwards here." 

Minako frogmarches him out of the studio, down the street, and into the bar. She grabs a bottle from the highest shelf, snags two glasses from under the bar, and pours two a drink for each of them. 

"Did I ever tell you about when I moved to France for ballet?" 

"Only every day of my childhood." 

"Well clearly you weren't listening." Minako sips her drink. 

Yuuri swirls the liquid in his glass. "What am I missing?" 

"Nothing. That's the point. You're a complete person already, Yuuri. Don't let a new country, or your brain," Minako shoots him a look, "make you believe otherwise." 

Yuuri drains his glass. "If you say so." 

"I do. And I've taught you everything you know." 

Yuuri can't argue with that. 

Three hours later, Minako's the one who drives him to the airport, reminding him that Skype is a thing, and waiting at security until Yuuri waves at her from the other side of the metal detectors.

Exhausted, and already homesick, Yuuri repeats her words to himself as he hangs up his posters—neatly rolled, no creases—in an empty, cinderblock dorm room in Detroit. 

_______________

Mari finds her idiot brother in the hotel bar and immediately takes his drink away from him. They share a dad. She knows things. Kyushu Beast things. 

She lifts the glass up to her nose and sniffs—it's water. Yuuri's eyes are red. His fingers twitch against the linoleum counter and he refuses to meet her eyes. 

"What did you do?" 

That does it. He raises his head, glances at the empty chair next to him, and sighs. "Who says I did anything?" 

"Twenty four years of being your sister." 

Yuuri rolls his eyes. That's a good sign—he's never responded well to being coddled.

"I was in Detroit for five of those." 

"All you're doing is proving my point. Unless you didn't—then I'll do you the favor of pretending the onsen walls are thicker than they actually are for two weeks." 

" _Mari_." His shoulders tense. Ah. Something about Victor. 

"I'm not wrong though. Something happened." 

Yuuri traces a finger around the lip of his glass. "Nothing that wasn't already going to." 

Mari slides onto the stool next to him. "So you can see the future? Tell me, does Takao finally go for a solo career?" 

"I'm only predicting the inevitable." 

"And getting better at cryptic statements every day. So are you going to tell me what's going on? Or am I going to have to get you drunk the night before you skate to find out?" 

Yuuri sips his water—a clear stalling tactic. He swallows, pauses, then: "Victor's going back to Russia." 

Mari grinds her teeth. "Did he _tell_ you that?" 

"He didn't have to." 

Mari sighs and closes her eyes. 

Just a week ago, Victor had asked their mother about family registries in Japan before following her into the kitchen—so he could practice making bentos for the fourth time that week. 

Two weeks before that he'd returned from Russia—sans Yuuri—red eyed, hollow, and constantly leaving space next to him for a body that wasn't there. 

A month and a half prior, Victor had tackle-kissed her brother to the ice on live tv. 

Six months earlier, a whole shipping pallet stacked high with boxes and lamps swaddled in bubble wrap had arrived at Yu-topia in the wake of Hurricane Nikiforov.  Mari had watched Yuuri carry three lamps and a marble bust up the foot-worn wooden stairs while their mother served "Vicchan" another bowl of katsudon. 

"Yuuri, if anyone's leaving here, it's you." 

Mari's words are prophetic—Yuuri moves to Russia two weeks later. 

_______________

A few weeks into his new life in St. Petersburg, Mila takes Yuuri out for ice cream. 

Mila's the first friend Yuuri's made in Russia. Technically, Yuuri became friends with Yurio in Hasetsu, but he'd never say that to Yurio's face. 

On his first day training in Russia, Mila stole Yuuri from the rink and showed him pictures of Victor and Georgi wearing Spice Girls t-shirts Victor had picked up at a consignment shop during Skate America in 2006, and a video of them skating a synchronized routine to "Stacy's Mom."

"Don't let anyone here intimidate you. I guarantee none of them are scarier than Yura." They watched Victor skate circles around Yuri on the ice, Mila's camera primed for blackmail material—just in case. 

Victor is still refining his new routines for Europeans. Usually, Yuuri will watch him or use the time to practice figures. He's started to settle into a routine here. The comforting smell of fresh ice, trace sweat, and the ozone-like scent of metal shavings from freshly sharpened skates. Ice rinks always smell like home, no matter what country you're in. 

Yuuri's become enough of a fixture around the rink at this point that Yurio's asked Yakov if they can work sunglasses into the rink budget—Victor's gotten exceptionally good at making sure his engagement ring catches the light every time he moves his hands "and someone's going to go blind." 

It's especially bad today. It's almost as though Victor's choreographed his free skate's arm movements around his ring. Victor's taunting Yurio at the moment and Yuuri's afraid the steam rising from Yakov's ears will melt the ice. 

Mila links her arm through his and pulls him off the bleachers. "Yuuri let's go get ice cream."

Ten minutes later, Yuuri ends up in an ice cream parlor six blocks away from the rink. Even though he's lactose intolerant. 

"Did you get the recording of Vitya singing in the shower?" 

Yuuri slides his phone across the table, video primed to play. Mila takes a big bite out of her ice cream and Yuuri shivers in sympathy for her teeth. He'll never understand how people _bite_ ice cream. 

Three texts from Victor flash across the screen while Mila listens to the two minute recording, snorting into her ice cream. Yuuri fears for her sinuses. 

"I owe you," Mila says reverently. "If you send this to me, I'll trade you some pictures of Yura with his bowl cut." 

"Deal." Mari will love it. Yuuri's already planning on setting it as Yurio's contact photo. 

Mila's mouth is full of ice cream when a man and a woman—ice dancers, maybe—Yuuri vaguely recognizes from the rink wander over to say hi to Mila. Yuuri shrinks into his chair. He's suddenly conscious that they only think of him as Yuuri-Victor's-fiance and not Yuuri-our-rinkmate, and the gaping chasm between those two personas. Svetlana and Alexei, Yuuri remembers, in a flash remembrance of Victor's voice from when he named all of Yubileny's residents as though flicking through an invisible rolodex. 

"Yuuri!"  Svetlana beams. "I wanted to talk to you about your footwork in the pair skate."  She slides into he seat next to him, leans in, and says in a stage whisper, "it's much better than Alexei's." 

"He's only been here three weeks and he's already everyone's favorite." Alexei sighs, then turns to Yuuri. "Soon she'll only need me for my Georgi impressions." 

Yuuri flushes then laughs. Mila shoots him a smile, one eyebrow raised—a non-verbal "see?"

He shrugs, smiles, and breaks out the overly formal Russian he’d studied in college. He starts to feel like he's settling in. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'll add something insightful later.
> 
> something something i'm [katsukiyuuristrophyhusband on tumblr](http://katsukiyuuristrophyhusband.tumblr.com) links on ao3 are terrible.


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